The Things That Break Quietly

“Really?”

Just as Jaekyung was about to take a step, he sensed the unpleasant pheromones of nearby omegas and frowned.

No—this wasn’t pheromones.

It was the stinging scent of expensive, overwhelming perfume and the mocking way they looked at him.

“I’m telling you, it’s true.”

Their conversation had nothing to do with Jaekyung.

Yet somehow, every word dug clearly into his ears.

“Someone saw Executive Han at a hotel not long ago.”

Ah.

“He was with an omega.”

“Oh wow… Well, considering who Executive Han is… I guess one person wouldn’t be enough.”

“I mean, it’s understandable, but still… as if he has no idea how it looks.”

“Right, right.”

“Look at him. He doesn’t seem to know what position he’s in.”

“How did he even think he could show up looking like that?”

“The outfit is… okay, I guess, but his face looks like a corpse.”

“No wonder Executive Han is going to hotels with a different omega.”

“And it doesn’t look like they’ve marked yet either.”

Dizzy.

He felt like he would throw up.

He forced himself not to run, taking slow, steady steps out of the banquet hall.

The moment he reached the elevator on the first floor, he rushed straight into the lobby restroom.

One of the bodyguards followed him and called out to him, but Jaekyung shut himself inside a stall and locked the door.

He grabbed the toilet and threw up.

At the hospital, he had only thrown up what little he ate.

But now—why did it feel like even his tears were being emptied into the toilet bowl?

Jaekyung lowered his head and cried silently for a long time, until the bodyguard, worried, knocked on the door.

◆

He wasn’t able to go to the gallery for a week due to his worsening condition.

Director Ji thought he was faking it, so she sent people to check.

He had a high fever, couldn’t eat, and was growing thinner by the day.

He slept all day, woke at dawn, fell asleep again, woke in the afternoon, and repeated that cycle.

And during that week, he realized something.

Han Taeseok hadn’t come home even once.

He could have asked the housekeeper for details, but he didn’t have the strength.

And he didn’t want to know.

—Knock, knock.

Jaekyung slowly opened his eyes at the sound.

The housekeeper entered carefully and handed something to him.

It was an envelope.

“Sir, this was in the mailbox…?”

There was no sender listed, no postmark, only his name.

It was clearly suspicious.

He shook it, but it sounded like only paper.

With the housekeeper’s help, he sat up and propped himself against a pillow.

He carefully tore open the envelope.

He felt the texture of printed photographs.

He paused and looked at the housekeeper.

“Could you bring me some water?”

“Yes, of course.”

Once she left and the door closed, his hands began to shake.

He had spent so long avoiding this—avoiding it so thoroughly that it had made him sick.

And now, he was being forced to look at it.

The photos spilled onto the bed.

Han Taeseok and the male omega Jaekyung recognized, walking out of a hotel together.

His chest tightened.

What was worse was the knowledge that he had no right to be angry.

He couldn’t even call and demand an explanation.

He was the one who had said, from the beginning, that personal lives should not interfere.

“That rule… was too cruel today.”

His voice was empty.

He let out a small laugh and pulled the blanket over his head.

Today was their second wedding anniversary.

That morning, Secretary Oh had delivered a bouquet, saying it was from Han Taeseok.

◆

After attaching two identical contracts and stamping his seal in the required spaces, the agreement was finalized.

As the final stamp was pressed down, Jaekyung smiled brightly and thanked the artist who had entrusted her precious work to him.

“Thank you.”

“No, I’m the one who should be grateful. Please take good care of me.”

The woman, in her early fifties with hair turned white, had smiled shyly when they first met, saying life had been too relentless for her to find time to dye it.

She had been painting for thirty years, and though she loved art, reality made her afraid of picking up a brush.

Her single semi-basement room was filled with half-finished canvases.

Jaekyung told her that if she would complete them, the gallery would cover material and living costs.

She had been wary at first—understandably.

But after Jaekyung visited her several times, explained the gallery’s vision, and shared everything transparently, her heart slowly opened.

And now the contract was signed.

After thanking her and discussing the schedule, they parted.

The gallery building was still under renovation, so Jaekyung sat in the café next door with his laptop.

He transferred the contract payment and reviewed the list of signed artists.

About thirteen in total.

He had expected it to be difficult, but they had opened up easily.

The reason was simple.

Every single one of them had been dismissed by Han Art Gallery.

Rejected not by skill, but by the elitist value system of that industry.

They had been labeled failures.

And yet their work was good.

They only needed someone to recognize them.

“Kim Woon…”

He had selected fourteen artists originally.

The last remaining one was the artist Kim Woon.

Kim Woon had once been represented by Han Art Gallery and had even sold well.

But he had refused to send any more paintings after learning how his work was being bought “for certain uses.”

He had shouted in the gallery.

Director Ji hated noise and scandal within the gallery.

The next day, she returned all his paintings and demanded damages.

It had amounted to tens of millions.

He lost the lawsuit.

After that, Jaekyung didn’t know what had happened.

But he remembered that he had felt terrible about it at the time.

Because Kim Woon’s paintings were good—heavy, mist-like, quiet, and aching.

You could always recognize them.

He wanted him for the gallery badly.

But he only had an email address.

Jaekyung had emailed him repeatedly, but the messages were only read—not answered.

Still, he refused to give up, sending a polite message every day.

Today was the same—read, but unanswered.

It was fine.

He would hear back eventually.

—RRRR.

His phone vibrated on the table.

The number was unknown, but the last four digits felt familiar.

He answered.

“Oppa!”

“Ah, Jaeyoung.”

Of course.

Those were his sibling’s birth-date digits.

“Where are you?”

“At the café next to the gallery. Wait, what number is this?”

Then he realized.

If Jaeyoung was overseas, he wouldn’t have a local number yet.

“Hehe. I just landed in Korea!”

“I made a phone plan right away!”

“You’re in Korea?”

“You should have told me! I would have picked you up!”

“No, no! I didn’t tell you on purpose. I have to go straight to the hospital.”

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, just a precaution. It’s been years since I took a long trip. I want to get checked here too. Once they confirm everything’s fine, I can go have fun.”

“That’s good.”

“Oppa. Korea changed a lot. Incheon Airport is huge. You must have changed too, right?”

“…You must be all grown up now.”

“Hehe, I guess so. I’ll call you again after the checkup. You’ll eat with me, right?”

“Of course. I’ll wait.”

“Okay! Wait for me!”

“Alright.”

Jaeyoung’s voice was brighter now.

In the past, his voice had sounded so fragile that it felt like it might fade away.

But now it was strong, confident.

Jaekyung wondered how much he had changed.

He had seen photos, but he would be even healthier and more beautiful in person.

He should buy him clothes.

He should make sure he could do everything he wanted.

He should make sure he could be happy.

He smiled and reached for his laptop—then stopped.

His fingers trembled.

His chest tightened again.

He felt like he would throw up.

His head throbbed.

He tried to stand to get water, but his body would not move.

Why?

He wasn’t even taking the injections anymore.

Why was his body still falling apart?

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair.

It would pass.

He didn’t need a hospital.

He took deep breaths and counted slowly.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had already set.

There were five missed calls from Jaeyoung.

Jaekyung stared at the screen in shock before quickly gathering his things and calling back.